


Future Speed, Double Force

by WishMoon (A_Wish_On_the_Moon)



Category: DCU (Comics), The Flash (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Clones, Dystopian Conquests, Enemies to friends to brothers, Gen, Maybe Just Enemies to Brothers, Time Loop, Time Travel, bad future AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29952639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Wish_On_the_Moon/pseuds/WishMoon
Summary: The future is not as great as everyone thinks it is, and Bart's not willing to let things be. He's survived hundreds of timelines, but each one ends with someone dying, and he's not sure how much longer he can pretend. There's still the matter of Thad to deal with, and it's getting to be too much.(Sometimes, he has to wonder if the Speed Force really just hates its speedsters.)
Relationships: Bart Allen & Thaddeus Thawne, Bart Allen & Wally West, Thaddeus Thawne & Slade Wilson
Kudos: 3





	1. Freckled Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> This work is one of many being imported in from my FF.net fics onto AO3. Enjoy! :D

Even on a good day, dealing with Impulse is like trying to shove nails into your eyes. He's too chipper, too fast, too high on _something_ , — and when he finds out who gave the speedster sugar, he's gonna strangle them, _dammit_ — and won't ever slow down or _pay attention_ to what's going on.

If his name wasn't a giveaway before, — it was Ro — no, _Nightwing_ now — who named him, after all — it is now. He's too damn _impulsive_ for the kinds of missions this little teen Justice League go on, too thoughtless and whimsical and in a world of _fastfastfast_ , with the occasional _ooh, shiny~_ thrown in to make him want to smack the kid upside the head.

Even he hadn't been _that_ reckless — though he doesn't really have much room to talk, all things considered; after all, his experiment was botched to begin with, and his speed is never, ever fast enough — and is never going to be. His only consolation is his spitfire-turned-tigress, but he can deal.

He's just not sure if Uncle B's grandson has it in him to _slow down_ long enough to face the consequences of his mess-ups.

Given all he knows about the speedster, — _his replacement_ , he can't help but think, bitterly, — and yes, he's justified in thinking that, knowing how he's too slow and too young and how he couldn't ever be good enough for his parents, good enough for his aunt and uncle, good enough for his teammates — couldn't even get that stupid experiment _right_ —

Given what he knows, it's understandable if he gets a little confused when he sees the kid frowning when no one's looking, staring off into space with dark, dark eyes that hold so little of the determined fire that his kind are known for.

That lightning spark is so small in that yellow-gold gaze of his, so tired and dull and empty, that Wally's isn't quite sure if he's imagining something that's not there, or if he's seeing the time traveler for what he really is. And yet, whenever he tries to double-check, that glazed innocence and jubilant excitement is always, always, _always_ back.

He's not going anywhere near that can of worms, not going anywhere near that drowning resignation and sorrow, and so he pushes it to the back of his mind.

He can't help but wonder, though. The few times Impulse's caught him looking a little too closely, scrutinizing him a bit too much, the brat's always quick to change the subject of conversation, quick to make a big spectacle out of himself and distract everyone, quick to twist his concern into annoyance by-by doing something stupid or acting like even more of an idiot!

The Team's too busy yelling to see through the façade, and the kid gets to pull the 'tourist' card again and again and _again_ , with no one the wiser.

Dick's probably already seen through the mask, but he doesn't act on it. Wally's not too sure how he feels about that, and he's doesn't think he wants to know, either. On the one hand, he _knows_ that none of them can really trust Bart, but on the other, well… he can't help but relate.

He's had downer days, too, okay?

And so, it is with this in mind that he helps in the little ways, playing along with the charades the brat insists on keeping up, pushing the speedster down and down and down every time he tries to be someone he's not, — until the day finally comes that he's no longer the time-traveling tourist or a speedster or Impulse, but Bart, just Bart, just Bart and his insecurities and his need to go fast because _he's really only four or so_ and — his newfound love of Chicken Whizee's because it's _Wally_ who enjoys greasy junk food way too much… his love of noise because _how else is there any proof that the world's still alive_? —

… Needless to say, Bart does open up, eventually.

* * *

It's kind of depressing, the stuff Bart's told him. The nuclear winter that the earth's been in for years, the enslavement of all the people by the Reach and its stupid scarab beetles — _like Jaime's,_ the kid explains _, even if it wasn't always like that._ To Bart, the future's not worth seeing — or at least the one in store for them isn't.

From what Bart's not telling him, though, Wally's pretty sure the kid's seen plenty of futures, none of them acceptable, and — and the kid's probably _lived_ through most of them, and that just makes him too sick to want to think about it much.

He knows enough to guess that his girl's not the one Bart's been expecting, that their Superboy is nowhere near the one he's used to; the kid can bullshit with the best — or worst, depending on whose perspective they're talking about — of them, but he can't hide the unease when Wally's flirting with Artemis, or the surprise each and every time their Superboy is quick to anger, or the dissonance whenever Superman jumps at the chance to avoid responsibility.

He can't hide the surprise when he sees Zatanna — _too young, too naïve_ — skipping around, or when Batman — _he's not supposed to be this nice, this caring, and where did the real Timmy go?_ — shows that he cares by allowing those little hugs and games and pranks from his wards.

Wally's Bat-approved wings might be showing, what with his being oh-so-observant and all, but if this kid's family, he's sort of allowed to be the overbearing brother if he wants to be.

It's not an invitation for hugs and kisses like the kid wants from him, but… it is an understanding that Uncle Barry may die, — because that hug was all kinds of suspicious, and far too desperate to be out of _just_ being glad to see people he knows — and it is an understanding that he's expected to take up the mantle when his father figure all but disappears.

Bart assures him that now that he's saved his grandpa, there's _no way the mode can get us now, so it's all crash, dude!_ — but. Even if the future's been changed, there's no guarantee who'll live and who'll die, no guarantee that anything'll work out the way Bart expects them to.

Bart's told him enough about the future that _they_ are in danger of repeating, but that science-obsessed mind he used to put to use — before he became Kid Flash and overconfident and crazy and all kinds of messed up, before he broke up into Wally West and Kid Flash and Kid Fate, before he finally got over his identity issues enough to function with masks instead of personalities — _and wasn't that all kinds of fun?_ — knows there's something inherently wrong when he sees it.

He can see it in the kid's eyes whenever they're up to fighting Central City's Rogues, see his fear and the flicker of expectation — of what, he's not sure, but the kid has this debilitating paranoia of walking the streets instead of zipping across the asphalt and pavement that he's not sure what to make of — _like he's expecting to be beat up for just being there_ — and. Wally kind of knows the feeling, from before, before, Before.

Most would excuse it as the antsy nature of being a speedster, but…

Bart's innocent and dumb, except when he's not, and the Rogues always make him flinch. He always looks with sad, sad eyes at the Weather Wizard whenever they encounter him, and always seems so confused and worried whenever he visits the Flash Museum. His love for his 'Grandma Iris' and 'Grandpa Barry' overrides any unpleasant feelings Bart may have of staying, but more often than not he's either staying with the new Team or hanging out at the apartment Wally shares with Artemis.

Nobody can say that the confusion and love aren't justified; Bart _is_ a time traveler. But, sometimes, Wally's not sure if it's all just because the kid needs a little bit of familial familiarity.

And, really, if he can get along with his supposed captor — _the one that started the whole apocalypse thing, in fact_ — Wally has never been more unsure as to what the problem is. Because if not even the end of the world worries Bart as much as this specter hanging over his head, he thinks they should know — and not just him, but all of them.

He's just not sure if Bart trusts them enough to tell.


	2. Impulsive Paranoia

Bart Allen is a lot of things.

Impulsive, reckless, and an overall fanboy geek — _with_ a love of Chicken Whizees~! —are some of the most understood of them. That's what everyone knows, or thinks they know; he's made sure of it. Holding onto the lie is a lot easier than he'd thought it'd be.

Because of the whole 'secret identity' thing, what's not _as_ known is that he's a time-traveler from the future, the grandson of the second Flash, Barry Allen, and the boy behind the mask of Impulse.

First impressions and theme-naming seem to be a thing, 's all he's saying. Kind of comes with the territory, got it? Cool beans — wait, no, it's _totally crash_ now, right? He hates that the Interlac's changed so bad.

What only one or two other people in this era know is that he's come from a post-apocalyptic world and wants nothing more than to prevent his Grandpa Barry's death and, in turn, stop that future of the Reach's conquest from ever happening. The _again_ doesn't matter all that much.

What nobody but him knows is that he's been changing these futures left and right for decades, — of getting over his fear of inhibitor collars and scarab beetles and _cagedemptywrong_ — and he's getting tired of waiting for the good one, the right one, the safe one — the one that never seems to come.

He's getting tired of seeing anger in place of _his_ Kon's flirty demeanor, tired of seeing the kindness where there should barely be any in the Bat, of seeing the cruelty where before there was nothing but love in the Big Guy. He keeps trying to find the fun that were his teammates, all those timelines ago, and all he sees are strangers. Even Jaime's not enough to replace them, now.

He's getting tired of always checking over his shoulder for the Thawnes that aren't there, getting tired of his fear of the Rogues, — because they had killed him, that time before, and they could so easily do it again — getting tired of waiting, waiting, waiting for Inertia to _come out, come out, wherever he is_ , because, _grife_ , isn't it sprocking enough that Thad's been killed, too and — the clone's probably still alive, somewhere, just waiting to get his hands on him, and —

* * *

He misses the timeline where they'd nearly gotten along, where he didn't need to go back to the past to change things, — not really, not with how all it had been about was his own protection from his grandfather, the great President Thawne. Thad had nearly become a hero — or, at least, that's what Max had told him. He'd never really understood all that much…

Bart thinks it's sorta hilarious, and _so_ _not crash_ , that the people here — _all dead, all dead, none of them escaped execution_ — think he does things on an impulse _now_. They should've seen him the first time around, back when he _really_ couldn't slow down enough to deal with everybody else.

Back when he still had Carol and Preston and Jolly and Eddie, and all of his other friends and family…

Still, it gets tiring, living each of these simulations through until he gets it _right_ , and he's not sure what to do anymore. Last run-through he'd all but forsaken _his_ Flash — left him to rot and decay and _loseloselose_ his speed until Wally West —still willing to hero it out one more time — became the necessary death to stop the final mess.

He doesn't want this Wally to die, never wanted the third Flash to disappear, without even a body left to his name. he doesn't want to push and push and push, and keep on pretending that he isn't holding back — _no, he's killing him, killing him, forcing him out of the speed he should have —_ his hero, forcing the man to be a boy with nothing to his years of living…

And — this one still cares enough to want to try, is still willing to deal with his _crash_ and _mode_ and _sprocking grifes_.

* * *

He wishes his Wally — his _real_ Wally, the one from his original future — had cared enough to want to mentor him, even _if_ he'd never have had the same experience with their Max, even _if_ he'd never helped Thad or met Carol or saved Helen or —

He shakes his head, as if to clear it, before shooting some nonsense or another at his — _notrealnotreal_ — teammates. They buy his random input as usual, and he's safe from any unwanted inquiries.

It's just his dear _cousin's— wouldn't he technically be his uncle?_ — understanding smile that he can't seem to ever throw off.

He's waited so long for Wally's acceptance, but — Bart knows it's not his to take, and — so he continues on with the game, for as long as it'll last. He hopes that, this time, nothing as twisted as the last run-through occurs — but, then again, that's all he can really do right now, hope and hope and pray to beings he's never heard of and never, ever, _ever_ believed in.

He can't help but think that the missions are dragging on longer, that it's getting easier and easier to pretend, that — _why isn't the initial invasion on high alert yet?!_

* * *

And, on the mission where Dick's Aqualad was to kill Tigress Number Two, he remembers why he'd given up praying so long ago.

— _blood like iron_ , he'd like to say, but maybe it'd make more sense to say sprocking _fire_ like molten _gold_ —

There's _bloodbloodblood_ splattering the ground, and more than a few bodies spread across it, spinal cords ripped out and slaughtered scarab beetles laying by their sides. There's a figure hovering over them, holding another _victim_ by his neck, and Bart knows they can't save him; they can't save a lot of people, it seems.

The rip is squelching and loud as red sprays over them both and — _fire, lightning, fasterfasterfaster, failure, death, death, not again, again, they have to die, don't they?! Don't they?!_

Lightning-yellow eyes catch Bart's own, and — together, they clash.

_Sometimes, he has to wonder if the Speed Force really just hates its speedsters._


End file.
